Monster
by octava
Summary: A mechanical soldier has risen under the depths of the Atlantic Ocean, but is there something human inside? Augustus Sinclair is eager to discover what more is there to this Big Daddy, Subject Delta.
1. Mechanical Soldier

Everything around Subject Delta was so new. However, there was something that remained the same. Eleanor. Her voice was the only thing that was giving him some sort of comfort in this long forgotten place. Eleanor was different now, older, yes, but still possessed the innocence of a child. His eternal daughter he was chemically attached to. How long had it been that he was laying here dead? How did it come to all of this? All he knew is that aside from Eleanor's presence, he was the loneliest being in Rapture.

However, he wasn't completely alone.

After Delta met Tenanbaum, there was another voice that Delta heard.

"Looks like I'm your guide for this ride, kid," A man's voice could be heard through is Audio Diary. It sounded much different than Tenanbaum's voice had through the device, but he couldn't see his face. His voice was smooth with an odd twang mixed into it that made it unique. Delta glanced at his Audio Diary as he listened, this being the only other company that seemed sane down in Rapture. "I'm goin' to tell you how to get over to find me and how we can find Eleanor."

Delta did not respond to his voice, but did not show any signs of disagreeing with the man. He simply listened to the voice belonging to Augustus Sinclair.

"That's a good boy," Sinclair's voice encouraged the Big Daddy as he started to head toward the train station. "There's so much we gotta do before we can head off though."

The Big Daddy understood, and did all that he was told. There was no sense of time for him. All that Delta could comprehend fully was the sound of this strange man's voice. However, Delta could understand something else almost innate inside of him. A sudden clank caught Delta's attention which reverberated around Delta's ears through his helmet. Muffled voices from a nearby distance. Delta knew something was about to happen, most likely, someone went into a nearby room. He wasn't completely alone after all.

Augustus Sinclair leaned back in his chair, watching the screen that allowed him to see through Delta's eyes. A long finger extracted a cigarette from his pocket and he slipped it between his dry lips as he paid close attention. The sweet tang of nicotine brushed his tongue as he held it in his mouth in silent anticipation for what was to come next.

"Watch out," he warned almost as in a whisper o the Big Daddy. "I think you've got yourself a bad surprise on the other side of the room..."

It was a vague warning, but Sinclair was curious about Delta's instincts. Survival always was key in Rapture, which he learned through economic reasons. But just how did Delta see the world? Sinclair couldn't help but be fascinated by him.

"How much of you actually is human?" he whispered to himself as he finally lit up the cigarette. The smoke danced wildly at first, but then dwindled down into a waltz around Sinclair's dark eyes. He hunched forward, his eyes not moving away from the screen.

The noises on the other side of the metal door were now better defined. Delta equipped his drill, knowing exactly what to do. His genetics seemed to be altered to have this innate ability. With no hesitation, Delta walked through the metal door, his guard locked into place. A splicer, his body deformed, his flesh smelt rotten and decayed, lunged impulsively at the Big Daddy. Delta made no hesitation as he revved up his drill, making sure to press it firmly against the splicer's torso. A splash of red accompanied by screams and the sound of tearing flesh painted Detla's helmet. Another splicer lunged to attack, not at all concerned about his fallen comrade. ADAM seemed to twist the nature of any being who indulged in it. This was now the fate of Rapture.

Sinclair's face did not change as he watched the bloody horror on the small screen, but instead, he seemed intrigued by the situation. It had been ten years since Subject Delta's death, and yet, he still knew how to fight. Delta truly seemed to be a mechanical soldier of sorts. He knew his place and silently carried out his mission with efficiency.


	2. An Old Friend

Subject Delta managed to move past the room with an odd sort of grace about him. Spliced up citizens of Rapture seemed to be crawling everywhere, but it had not become a problem so far. Nothing Delta could handle anyways. Delta remained on guard as he headed toward the Atlantic Express. Sinclair's eyes remained focused as he watched the screen, knowing that Delta was fast approaching the train. It became apparent to him that their alliance, such as his alliance with Tenenbaum, would prove to be most fortuitous. There was no much to gain from Rapture any longer, but there was the surface. A small smirk tugged at Sinclair's lips as the wheels began to turn. The surface was an interesting opportunity. There was always something to gain in any situation, money being one of those things. Money being the most important of those things. Thoughts about returning to the surface often crept up on Sinclair, but never was something he wanted to fully pursue. After all, he was invested in so much in Rapture with Sinclair Solutions, the Sinclair Deluxe, Sinclair Spirits and even the Atlantic Express was part of an investment in Rapture. However, Rapture was no longer the city of opportunity it once was. A small wistful sigh escaped his chapped lips as he exhaled smoke from his cigarette. "No need to dwell on the past now," he muttered to himself as he put the cigarette out in a dirty ashtray.

"Almost here, Delta," his voice softly guided him as he scratched the stubble on his chin, his back still hunched forward toward the flickering screen. "Not much longer now 'til we can start our beautiful friendship." He let out a soft chuckle as he grabbed another cigarette. Yes, the start of a new business venture that would lead Sinclair to more profits than he ever imagined.

Delta listened to the man's voice and started to head across the silent room where deformed corpses were spread haphazardly. The Big Daddy leaned down and rummaged through them to gather supplies that remained on them. The dead were no longer in need of these items, and Delta needed to survive in order to save Eleanor. The Big Daddy knew that the Splicers had no purpose. They only stood in his way of getting to his daughter. It wasn't as if they had any mentality left to feel anything other than pure carnal instinct to obtain more ADAM.

"Come, come, Mr. B! I can hear the Angels..."

That voice. Delta knew that voice. His slightly rusted helmet tilted upward toward the vaguely familiar source, and he remained in place. The way that voice echoed stirred something inside of him and put him into a temporary paralysis. Memories started to rush back of a small, graying hand, a pale colored dress and the dark braids. The scent of ADAM started to fill his senses, and the clank of steady footsteps sounded loudly and vibrated through the metallic walls.

Sinclair noticed the sudden change in the Big Daddy's demeanor. He too knew that voice and those footsteps.

"Looks like you've found a Little Sister," Sinclair focused his eyes on the screen as if he too was searching for the small girl. This was something Sinclair was interested in discovering. Subject Delta was different than other Big Daddies for he had the bond of a Little Sister genetically implemented inside of him. Although this wasn't the Little Sister he was bound to, the reaction would still be different compared to the more mechanical Bouncer or Rosie. "Why don't you find her first? Our meeting can be delayed just a bit longer."

The Big Daddy made a silent response by taking one step forward toward the voice. It was as if the past was being recreated around him. The soft, faded sound of a quartet in the background and a haunting voice of a woman singing about her lost love started replaying in his mind. The rusting walls chipped away to their once former beauty of pearl colors and soft velor curtains draped aesthetically to cover any flaws. Light refracted through the glass windows and seemed to dance along to the soft music.

"Come on, Daddy," the voice softly whispered to him as he walked closer to the voice. The music began to grow louder as he walked. "Let's play, Daddy. The Angels..."

The music became deafeningly louder, the woman's voice feeling only several feet away from Delta. The walls grew to a brilliant peal white, the very essence of architectural perfection, as he felt the voice come closer to him. Yet, it all shattered away in an instant as he was pushed away by a heavy force. The peal white walls disintegrated and rusted back to its dinged color, the draperies torn away and left no trace of existence and the music came to a sudden stop as if the needle on the record player was torn away from the vinyl. Delta faced threatening yellow lights from a rusty metallic creature that had some similarities to himself.

"Ah, looks like that Daddy ain't too pleased to see ya," Sinclair's voice replaced the music that dominated Delta's senses. "No use in fightin' him now, Delta. He won't harm ya unless you strike first. Just head over to the station and we'll talk about how to get ya back to your Sister. Just keep heading the way you are and we'll meet each other in no time."

Sinclair leaned back finally against the rickety chair, eyes glancing over at the door here and there. He knew it would not be much longer til he met his new project.

"A new project," he whispered to himself as he reclined back in his chair. "Oh this will be interesting..."

The metal door started to rise, and Sinclair glanced over it, a smirk tugging at his lips as his mind churned with all the possibilities of a bright future.


End file.
